


Memories Keep You Near

by Darkrivertempest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrivertempest/pseuds/Darkrivertempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has a loving husband. Too bad she can't remember anything about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aleysiasnape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleysiasnape/gifts).



> Written for Aleysiasnape for the 2010 HP_porninthesun fic fest on LJ. 
> 
> Many thanks to my betas: Sotia, IBE and Mari!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters and canon Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling and associates. I am in no way affiliated with Warner Brothers, JK Rowling, or Scholastic. I do not make any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

For as long as Hermione Granger could remember, her most life-altering occurrences had happened in a library. 

That was where she had discovered the secret of Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher’s Stone. It was also where she had pieced together the clues about the Basilisk before becoming one of its victims. Several late-night excursions had allowed for her meticulous study of the characteristics of werewolves in third year. Though fourth year hadn’t resulted in much, she had been glad to have at least pointed Neville in the right direction with regards to the gillyweed Harry had needed to use for the second task during the Triwizard Tournament. Circumventing Umbridge’s reign of terror had found Hermione lurking amongst the stacks in search of defensive spells that Harry could teach Dumbledore’s Army and, after the fall of Sirius Black, extensive examination of numerous theories that lay behind the Veil. She considered the revelation of Severus Snape to be the Half-blood Prince her greatest achievement when it came to her deductive skills, aware that if Harry or Ron had put any effort into researching obscure facts as she had, they would have known Snape was the author of Harry’s infatuation in sixth year. 

There was a problem, however. 

Hermione Granger couldn’t remember how she ended up wherever she currently was with a headache the size of Cornwall and a painful knot at the back of her skull, and she doubted she would find the answer in a library. Could she have fallen while shelving a book in the Hogwarts library? Had she taken a stray Bludger to the head during the last match between Gryffindor and Slytherin? She tried to remember the last thing she had been doing before she awoke, but everything seemed fuzzy. The most recent memory she could recall with any clarity was going with Luna Lovegood to speak with Professor Snape about invading Death Eaters. Anything beyond that made her head pulse with pain.

She _did_ know that she was in an ornately-furnished bedchamber, complete with a four-poster canopy bed. She could see the entrance to a lavish bathroom off to her right and a set of French doors that led to a spacious balcony to her left. There were several doors situated around the room and a hearth that could easily fit five wizards or witches inside it at the foot of the bed. Glancing down, she noticed she was dressed in a satiny nightgown, and one of the largest diamonds she had ever seen graced her left hand.

But that wasn’t the most bizarre sight that greeted her. 

No, the one she was most fearful of—besides the strange environment—was the man sitting to her right in a throne-like chair, his head lying against the back in slumber. 

That man was none other than the most vicious person alive next to Voldemort... Lucius Malfoy.

She must have made some sort of noise, for the lithe blond startled and bolted upright, his eyes worried when he looked at her.

“Hermione? How are you feeling?”

 _Oh, no... no... no, this was not..._ She swallowed audibly and found her throat parched. When he rose from the chair and perched himself on the mattress, she scrambled backwards, her vision jarring. 

“What’s wrong, dearest?” Lucius reached for her and she let out a blood-curdling scream.

“Stay away from me!” 

Stunned, Lucius backed away slowly. “As you wish,” he said quietly.

“Father, I heard—”

Another frightened shout rent the air, as Hermione struggled to remove herself from the many covers piled upon her. She succeeded in scooting to the edge of the bed, only to fall onto the floor in a tangle of sheets.

Draco and Lucius moved to the other side of the bed to help her, but once again, she skittered away from the blond wizards. “St-stay away from me!” Her gaze was wild as she searched for her wand and finding nothing. Tears filled her eyes, as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Where’s my wand?”

Lucius studied her for a moment then went to a bedside table, opened a drawer, and pulled out a rather lengthy stick that, to Hermione, looked nothing like her wand. Draco stood near her, his expression perplexed.

“It is where you always keep it, Hermione,” Lucius said as he handed her the wand. 

She refused to take it. “That’s not my wand.” She glared at him. “My wand is made of vine wood and has different markings.”

Draco frowned hard. “That wand was destroyed years ago.”

“What?” she whispered. Her gaze darted between the two. She saw nothing overtly menacing in their stance, but she knew looks could be deceiving, especially where those two were concerned. Gathering the sheet that lay pooling in her lap, she slowly stood and wrapped the soft fabric around her, in an effort to stave off the coldness that was creeping up her spine. Once she was completely covered, she held out her hand. “If you would be so good as to give me my real wand, I won’t bother you further.” 

“Have you gone mad, Granger?” Draco peered into her eyes, searching—for what, she didn’t know.

Lucius placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed. “I believe, Draco, there is something amiss. More than what we expected.” He leaned close and whispered urgently in his son’s ear, after which Draco nodded and left quickly.

Even with Draco gone, Hermione didn’t relax. In fact, she felt unnerved. “Where am I?” she murmured, glancing around at the room.

“Malfoy Manor.” Lucius’ constant stare began to alarm her. “You’re in our—the master bedroom.”

Her vision was swimming and she felt nauseated. “Why am I here? Are you keeping me here until you summon the Dark Lord?” At his harsh look, she went on to say, “Or are you luring Harry here with my presence, hoping he’ll be foolish enough to try and rescue me?” 

“Neither,” he choked out, looking all the while like she’d torn his heart out with the questions. “I found you unconscious in the library and brought you straight here. I suspect you fell while retrieving a book from one of the higher stacks.”

She started to shake her head, to deny his preposterous conclusion, but the moment she did, the nausea turned into an overwhelming urge to retch. She immediately stopped the movement. “Why would I be in your library?” she asked, hating the weariness that laced her voice.

“Hermione—” Lucius backtracked when he saw her flinch at the use of her name. “Miss Granger,” he murmured, “why don’t you take a seat? You are about to collapse and do further damage to yourself.” He waved his hand and a padded chintz chair shifted to her left side, waiting for her to make use of it.

Head throbbing and body aching, Hermione gingerly sat, clutching the sheets around her. “You can’t keep me here. Professor Dumbledore will know that I’m missing by now,” she warned.

Lucius’ eyes widened, and his jaw went a little slack. Composing himself, he summoned an identical chair and positioned it several feet away from her, sitting once she stopped cringing at every move he made. “What is the last thing you remember?”

Curling into a protective huddle on the seat, she rubbed her forehead as disjointed thoughts assaulted her mind. “Luna and I were standing guard outside Professor Snape’s office...” she trailed off then glanced nervously at Lucius. “You don’t need to know,” she said abruptly and turned away from him.

“If I am to ascertain what is ailing you, then I must know the last thing you recall.”

“You don’t need to know what is wrong. Just that you need to let me go!” She winced at the rising sound of her voice. 

He looked—dare she say it?—saddened by her plea. “I cannot let you go, Her—Miss Granger. I believe you’ve suffered a concussion, and I need to determine if there was any further damage done to you.”

A knock sounded on the door to the bedroom, and Hermione had never been more grateful. Instead of someone entering, however, Lucius rose, excused himself with a small bow at the waist, and left the room.

She wrapped the covers around her tightly, feeling her body began to shake. “This isn’t happening,” she whispered to the empty room, her confusion increasing with every passing second.

~*~*~

Lucius closed the door quietly and let the back of his head thump against the wood, his eyes closed in exhaustion.

“That bad?”

The Malfoy patriarch opened his eyes again to stare at the three men now looking at him with concern. “I’m not quite sure, but I believe she has lost a great deal of her memory.”

“How much?”

Sighing heavily, Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. “She mentioned something about standing guard outside Severus’ office.” He glanced at his oldest friend. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

“Merlin!” Draco breathed. “That was when—”

“Just before Dumbledore died,” Harry Potter muttered. “This doesn’t bode well.”

Lucius shifted his gaze between the men. “Do you mean to say that my _wife_ has no bloody idea that we are married? That the war has been over for nigh on five years?” His expression was forlorn. “It certainly explains her reaction to Draco and me.”

“And that was?” Severus questioned. 

“She looked like we were about to use the Cruciatus Curse on her,” Draco supplied, seeing that his normally articulate father was at a loss for words. 

Giving Harry a pointed look, Lucius stated, “She believes that we have captured her to lure you here for the purpose of meeting the Dark Lord.” He shuddered visibly at the thought.

All the wizards groaned. “How in Merlin’s name could she have lost so much memory?” Draco asked no one in particular. “No wonder she didn’t recognise her wand.”

Harry laid a hand on Lucius’ arm. “Maybe I should talk to her?”

Lucius nodded hesitantly. “Please don’t upset her further. It’s still unclear as to why she fell and if there is additional injury.”

~*~*~

Hermione now sat on the bed, shaking. It was decidedly more comfortable than the chair Malfoy had summoned for her. The sheet still covered her as she stared out the French doors, trying to remember how she’d ended up in the worse possible place she could be. 

Harry had slipped inside the bedroom and noticed her gaze. “It’s beautiful in the spring time,” he said quietly. 

Even though he had spoken softly, obviously trying not to startle her, she trembled upon hearing his voice. Without further thought, she let the blanket drop and ran to him, so she could throw herself into his arms, wrapping her own arms tightly around his neck.

“Harry,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “Tell me you haven’t fallen for their trap?” 

He returned her hug and then tried to extricate himself from her grip. “Hermione...” He panted for breath. “Hermione, you need to let go.” 

She quickly became rigid and backed away. “Harry?” 

He took her hands and held them tightly, preventing her from wringing them. “Hermione, how are you feeling?”

“Feeling?” Her tone was a tad hysterical. “My head hurts, I’m sick to my stomach, and I’m sitting in what I think is Lucius Malfoy’s bedroom. Do you really need to ask?”

Harry smiled sheepishly. “I can see that this may look awkward, but—”

She tugged her hands free and began pacing. “What’s going on? Why are you here? I thought Hogwarts was under attack?”

“It was,” he said very slowly. He stopped her pacing with gentle pressure on her arm. “But everything is under control now.”

She relaxed a smidge. “That’s good,” she agreed, starting to nod, but then thought better of it. “So why am I here?”

“Can I look at your head?” 

Touching the back of her hair, she grimaced. “It feels like a Bludger hit me.”

Leading her to an ottoman, he instructed her to turn around and sit. Once that was done, he lightly felt along her skull until he came to a sizeable knot at the base. She hissed with pain when he pressed too hard. “Sorry.”

“How is it that Lucius Malfoy let you past his wards?” she asked quietly while he continued to search for any other contusions.

Harry swallowed audibly. “Funny thing, that.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Harry?”

“I’m not sure you’re well enough to know everything just yet.” Finding nothing else, he withdrew his fingers and sat beside her. “What’s important right now is that you’re not in any danger here.”

She gave him a dubious look. 

“I promise.” He took her hand and squeezed. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

She wasn’t completely taken with the idea, but acquiesced anyway. “I want to get dressed.”

Standing, Harry looked at several doors before he opened one that was clearly a walk-in closet... one almost as large as the bedroom. “In here, I think.”

“Circe’s pink lacy knickers!” Hermione took in the racks upon racks of clothing, not to mention the bureaus she assumed held lingerie and other fine items. “You could clothe all of Hogwarts with this.”

Harry snorted and muttered, “He probably spends more on you in a day than the sum total of a year at Hogwarts.”

“Who?” She was looking over an evening gown that was the perfect shade of purple for her skin-tone. 

“Erm, no one.” Harry crouched down to sort through the shoes gathered. He snagged a pair of trainers. “Here.”

“My Reeboks!” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are my Reeboks in Lucius Malfoy’s wardrobe?”

Harry looked like he’d swallowed a frog. “He has a fetish for Muggle shoes?”

She arched a brow. “In a size five?”

Yes, Harry definitely looked like he would rather be anywhere but standing in a closet with her. “I can’t plead that he has dainty feet, can I?”

“My vision may be blurry right now, Harry, but I do know that Lucius Malfoy has very long feet.”

Crossing his arms, Harry smirked. “How do _you_ know?”

Looking non-plussed, she shrugged. “I—I just know.” She frowned. “I mean, his feet are narrow, the sinew and ligaments making the arch nearly faultless, the toes just perfect with buffed nails and...” She trailed off, shock registering on her face. “Oh my God! How do I know this?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Harry lamented.

“Try me.” She was shaking again.

“Promise not to throw anything at me?”

“Why would I throw—”

“Just promise!”

“Fine,” she grunted. “I promise.”

Harry didn’t have to worry about Hermione chucking anything at him. As soon as he told her that she was married to Lucius, she promptly fainted.

~*~*~

Lucius watched as Harry closed the door with a grimace. “I take it things did not go as smoothly as you had anticipated?”

“That’s the understatement of the century.” Harry mopped his face. “I’m afraid she… well, she…”

“Verbosity was never your strong suit,” Severus quipped, which earned him a glare from Harry. 

“Shut it, you.” Harry turned to Lucius. “She fainted when I had to explain about the shoes.”

“I didn’t realize footwear would send her into a tizzy,” Lucius said with a snort. They were all gathered in his private study, so he strode over to the sidebar and poured himself a healthy dose of port. He swallowed it in one gulp.

“Your manners are usually better than this,” Severus commented before helping himself to the same port. He also poured two other glasses and handed them to Draco and Harry. 

“My manners are the least of my concerns at this point,” Lucius grunted. He collapsed on a leather wing-back chair and stared into the crackling fire. 

“What is your main worry then?” Harry’s voice was garbled after he swallowed the liquor. 

Lucius ran the tip of his thumb along his lower lip. “Why was she upon the ladder in the first place? Why did she not use magic to retrieve any of the books that were out of reach?” He closed his eyes in frustration. “And for Merlin’s sake, how did she fall?”

“Was there a thorough search of the area?” Severus inquired. 

“I checked the section she was looking in. It was only health and biology. There’s nothing detrimental about any of the books there. No Dark magic of any kind,” Draco offered. 

“She looked so fragile and broken, lying there,” Lucius whispered to no one. He drew in a shuddering breath. 

Severus and Harry looked at each other in commiseration. 

Draco, clearly uncomfortable with the tense atmosphere, rose and moved to lay a hand on his father’s shoulder. “I need to be getting home, Father. Ellie is uncomfortable these days.” 

Nodding absently, Lucius patted Draco’s hand. “Do let me know if there is anything either of you need.” 

Draco said his goodbyes to Severus and Harry then Disapparated. 

Severus pulled Harry aside and spoke in a low tone. “In light of recent events, I think it prudent that you stay here until Hermione is at ease with her surroundings and situation.”

Harry groaned. “You know that could take days. Weeks, even.” He laid his forehead against Severus’ chest. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

Pressing a kiss to Harry’s wayward hair, Severus murmured, “I will miss you too, brat.” He straightened and indicated Lucius with a nod of his head. “I doubt he will sleep, either.”

“Not bloody likely,” Harry agreed. He sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll stay. Besides, being around Lucius will send her around the bend. I know it would me.”

“Enough cheek!” Bending down, Severus kissed Harry languidly. “Owl me, should you need anything.” He didn’t say goodbye to Lucius. 

After Severus Disapparated, Harry sat next to a near catatonic Lucius. “She remembers your feet for some strange reason.”

That caused a reaction. “Pardon?” Lucius blinked slowly, coming out of his fog. “My feet?” A soft smile crept over his lips. “She has always been quite fascinated with my feet. It was disconcerting at first.” He frowned. “How is it she recalls my feet, if she cannot remember being married to me?”

Harry rubbed his face in exhaustion. “I think certain things will trigger her memories.” He paused for a moment. “Has she been seen by a Healer?”

Lucius looked at him like he was daft. “Of course she has. The one from St Mungos said she had a concussion but should otherwise be fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Call it a hunch, but I don’t think they did a very thorough job of looking Hermione over. Could I have Madam Pomfrey take a look at her? I think Hermione would trust her enough to not question her reasons.”

Lucius waved his hand. “Do what you must.”

~*~*~

Whoever was poking Hermione in the side was going to regret it if they continued. When the prodding didn’t stop with her groan, she let out an inelegant snort of laughter. “Stop! That tickles!”

“Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Hermione cringed at the sound of the foreign name. “I’m Hermione Granger.” She opened one eye and relaxed somewhat upon seeing Poppy Pomfrey. After prying open the other eye, she had to hold back her gasp of surprise. Madam Pomfrey was bent over her, fussing with the covers. She appeared much older than when Hermione had last seen the infirmary matron. “Madam Pomfrey?” she squeaked.

“Oh, do call me Poppy. I haven’t patched you up in ages.” She waved her wand slowly first over Hermione’s head and then over the rest of her body. “You’ve had a very nasty spill.”

Oh, God. Oh, Merlin! Hermione was going to hyperventilate.

“Hush, child! I won’t harm you,” Pomfrey soothed. “I need to find out the extent of your injuries.”

Hermione lay back, tried to stay as still as she could, and bit her lip to keep from screaming. She was never one for panic attacks, even in the thick of skirmishes, but her head hurt something fierce. Pomfrey’s clucking noises and head-shaking didn’t help. 

When the older witches’ eyes widened, Hermione nearly lost it. “What?” she demanded.

“Just relax, dear. I’ll make you a tisane that will help with the headache.” With that, Madam Pomfrey quickly bustled out of the room.

Hermione stared at the door, non-plussed. Sitting back against the headboard, she rubbed her temples to ease some of the ache. “This is just going to get worse, I can tell.”

~*~*~

Lucius stopped his pacing the moment Pomfrey exited the bedroom closing the door behind her. “Well?”

Poppy patted her chest in a nervous manner. “She has a sizable concussion, Mister Malfoy. She’s lucky there hasn’t been any brain swelling.”

Paling significantly, Lucius collapsed onto a chaise lounge, head in his hands. “Dear God.”

“There are several things that concern me,” the woman continued, sitting next to him. “It seems, from what you and Mister Potter told me, that she’s suffering from retrograde amnesia due to the injury.”

“Speak English, Pomfrey, or I’ll throw you out!”

“You curb your tongue, Malfoy! I wasn’t afraid of you then, I’m certainly not afraid of you now.”

“Fine,” he ground out. “Please explain then.”

She eyed him for a moment. “Retrograde amnesia means you lose a memory that you once had. It's as if someone has erased part of your past; you have lost memories from events prior to the accident. For some people, the amnesia can cover just a minute or even a few seconds, but for others, retrograde amnesia may affect longer periods of time. In general, the more significant the head injury, the greater the degree of amnesia.”

“She’s lost six years of her life!” He sounded strangely on the verge of tears. “She has no idea that she’s even married to me.”

“I was afraid of that,” she said, not unkindly. “As people recover from their head injuries, long-term memories tend to return.” She grimaced at the flare of hope in his eyes. “However, memories tend to return like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle—bits and pieces that return in random order. Strong emotions can trigger a memory or several, depending on how deeply the emotions were felt at the time. Sleep is important, especially now.”

He frowned. “Why now?”

With a great deal of uncertainty in her gaze, she took Lucius’ hand. “Because Hermione is pregnant.”


	2. Chapter 2

Coffee. 

Yes, a _strong_ cup of coffee. While fortifying, tea would not cut through the fog surrounding her brain. Maybe even espresso. Yes, that would be better. Hermione needed the caffeine so she could think clearly.

It had been one week since she had awoken in Lucius Malfoy’s bed. No, _their_ bed, if she were to believe what Harry had told her. And just because her best friend had stated that it was fact did not make it any easier to swallow. Other people—most notably Lucius—had tried to speak to her, but she had only allowed Harry to come near her. When her friend had looked at her with great pity in his eyes the previous evening, she had no longer been able to take it and left the room she had stayed in the entire time until then. 

Now, she wished she hadn’t been so rash. 

Everything was unfamiliar, as she cautiously traversed the corridor stopping only to regain her balance at the top of the winding staircase before setting foot onto the first step, her hand clutching the banister in a death grip. Her mind was still muzzy and it made her feel dizzy, though she did have sporadic images filter through her consciousness. While they didn’t seem particularly threatening, they didn’t fill her with optimism either. 

She reached the bottom, groaning when she passed a large rectangular mirror on the wall, which reflected proof-positive she should have taken a sleeping potion the night before, as had been suggested by her _husband_. She had accepted the fact that she was, indeed, six years older than she had originally believed. The evidence was all around her, and, if anything, she was pragmatic about the whole situation. Even Harry looked older. From what brief glimpses of Draco she had seen, he had matured as well. Lucius was still every inch the debonair pure-blood he had always been, and she secretly wondered if he had made some nefarious pact of Dark magic to keep himself ever young looking. She knew of a few Muggle celebrities that never seemed to age, so she deemed it likely that Lucius had access to all sorts of ways to stay forever fresh-looking. 

Pausing to study her reflection, she grimaced. The delicate skin around her eyes was tight, the tiniest sign of the beginnings of crow's feet testament to the fact she was older now, and the dark circles framing her bottom lashes indicative of a restless slumber. 

Shaking her head, she continued on through the halls, hoping she wouldn’t have to resort to asking a house-elf for directions to the kitchen. As luck would have it, she came upon a room that looked like the formal dining area. She checked all the doors leading to it until she opened one to find the comfort of a worn table and chairs, surrounded by cookery. She breathed a sigh of relief and searched for anything that could be used to make coffee. 

Preoccupied as she was, she didn’t hear the kitchen door open. A flash of blond and a masculine hand clapping down firmly on her left shoulder elicited a surprised yelp out of her. 

"Gods, you look awful, Granger," remarked the wizard. Draco graced her with a smirk and a quick squeeze to her shoulder before releasing her to walk forward and seat himself casually at the table. 

Covering her mouth to halt her shaking, she watched Malfoy conjure a cup of tea, and start sipping it as he perused the _Daily Prophet_ that had been left on the table. 

Draco-bloody-Malfoy. 

Though she had seen him several times over the course of the past week, it was still surreal to be standing a few feet away from him, in _his_ kitchen, without him shouting curses at her.

He caught her focused examination of him and grunted. “What’s the matter? Did Father keep you up late last night playing ‘Master of the Manor’ again?”

Yes, very surreal indeed. “Erm...” _Get a grip, Granger! You can’t show weakness now, especially not in front of the ferret._ “I-I... that is to say...”

“Spare me the details.” He arched a perfect brow and returned to reading the paper. “I’ve heard you two enough times before.”

It was official. She’d had an accident with a Time Turner. Yes, that was it. At least, it was the only explanation her aching mind could accept at the moment. She had to have been fiddling with the instrument before she had been whirled into some alternate reality where Draco was actually a mate, she was married to a Death Eater, and everyone got on spectacularly. 

That, or Voldemort had finally won and, when they had captured her, they had brainwashed her into thinking like them. 

Clearing her throat, she straightened her posture in an effort to portray some semblance of normalcy and decorum, rather than the shock she’d received from his commentary, or the sense of familiarity displayed from the Slytherin she only remembered as always having been cruel to her. “I recall nothing of the sort,” she replied primly. 

Draco turned swiftly and narrowed his eyes at her. “You still don’t remember...” He trailed off when she shook her head. “Merlin, I’m sorry!” He stood and moved towards her only to have her back away from him.

“Please don’t!” she nearly begged. “Don’t touch me.”

He slowly nodded and returned to his seat, indicating with his hand that she should take the one at the opposite end. The table was large enough to afford comfort on both their parts. He waved his hand and a steaming cup of tea appeared in front of her.

“Father said you had improved,” Draco began softly. “I hadn’t realised that you still hadn’t regained your memories.” 

She wrapped her trembling fingers around the warm cup and took a hesitant sip, sighing as the liquid eased the constriction around her throat. “Thank you for the tea,” she murmured, avoiding his unasked question.

“What has Potter told you?”

Setting the cup down, she then folded her hands on top of the table. “Not much. I think he’s afraid he’ll tell me something that will send me over the edge.”

Draco thinned his lips in consternation. “Tell me what you know as fact as of right now.”

She bristled at his tone. “That it’s been five years since the final battle. That I am married to Lucius Malfoy.” She audibly gulped after this. “That, from Harry’s perspective, Lucius seems to have been pampering me—”

“That’s an understatement,” Draco muttered. 

Glaring at the blond wizard, she continued. “That Dumbledore passed away.” She bit her lip at that, willing the tears away. 

Frowning heavily, Draco carefully asked, “Did Potter tell you how the Headmaster died?”

“No.” Oh God. There had to have been something horrible behind Professor Dumbledore’s death, if Harry hadn’t told her the circumstances—not that she had been in the right frame of mind to actually comprehend much. Maybe Draco would be forthcoming where Harry had not been. “What happened?”

Draco actually looked nervous and seemed to age right in front of her. “I don’t think you’re ready to know that just yet.”

She might have residual pain in her head, but it hadn’t affected her deductive skills. “You had something to do with it, didn’t you?” Slowly, she rose to her feet and backed away. A flash of hurt crossed Malfoy’s face and she winced. 

“I think you need to talk to Potter again,” Draco suggested quietly. 

“Maybe you should—”

Whatever she was about to say was lost to the sudden and intense images assaulting her brain at an alarming rate. 

_Dumbledore’s funeral. Ron holding her while she cried, as Harry stared stoically at the white marble tomb. Harry’s confession that, while Draco had disarmed the Headmaster, it had been Snape who had actually cast the dreaded curse that had sent Dumbledore over the parapet. Spending that entire summer gathering things they would need when they’d set out to search for the Horcruxes. Obliviating her parents..._

Her own screams brought her back to herself, and Draco’s arms around her held her up from total collapse. “My parents,” she croaked. “What have I done?”

“Winky!” Draco called. 

A house-elf draped in a tea towel immediately popped into existence on their left side. “Yes, young master?”

“Get Father!”

The creature bowed and disappeared. Hermione said nothing to the fact that there were clothed house-elves about the manor. She was still trying to process what her mind had just revealed. 

Soon the imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy stormed through the door, and it didn’t take a genius to see he was incensed. “What is the meaning of this?”

Draco slid his hands under Hermione’s legs and back, picked up her slight form, and brought her to his father. “I think she remembered something.” His tone told Lucius the memory hadn’t been pleasant.

Lucius cradled his unresisting wife close and nodded to his son in gratitude. Draco returned the sentiment and Disapparated. Sitting in the closest chair, Lucius tugged Hermione into an upright position and caressed her cheek, clearly worried over the state of her health, both physical and mental.

“Love? Can you hear me?”

There was no response. 

He pulled her close and laid his head against hers. “Please, Hermione.”

A lovely scent filtered through her muddled senses, causing her to inhale deeply. It also brought pleasurable memories which slid past her mind’s eye, soothing her battered soul.

_“Do you, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, take Hermione Jean Granger to be your cherished wife?”_

_“I’d like to see anyone prevent me from doing so.” Gales of mirth were heard from the people gathered._

_Dancing into the late hours. Congratulations from a multitude of friends and loved ones. An exotic location, filled with spices and warm breezes. A candle-lit bedroom with satin sheets that looked and felt welcoming._

_“I knew you were beautiful, wife,” Lucius purred, taking her hand and pulling her with him towards the bed. “But you are truly magnificent tonight.” That sensual mouth of his found hers, and he spread his fingers into her curls, holding her in place for his devastating kiss._

_He parted only to divest himself of his formal attire and do the same for her. He then pulled back the covers and sat on the bed, positioning her between his legs, his hands on her hips. His thumbs made gentle circles on her skin, and he smiled indulgently. Reaching up, he gently brought her down to press his lips against hers once more._

_She reciprocated with enthusiasm, and he slowly slid his hand from her tresses, down her spine and over her backside. His other hand deftly grabbed her waist to haul her slight frame up to sit atop his lap, as if she weighed nothing._

_Lucius nipped at her bottom lip, groaning into her mouth when she ground her wet core against his hardened shaft. Raw emotion permeated the air, as he lay back, bringing her to lie atop his heated body._

_His scent was an intoxicating combination of sandalwood and something elusive, like the rain-laden air just before a storm. It filled her, made her ache with longing for the man under her, whose look was entirely possessive._

_“My wife,” he breathed._

“My wife,” she parroted, her voice unsure.

Lucius stilled beneath her, hardly daring to breathe. “Hermione?”

Slowly, she turned to look at the man that had touched her so intimately in her newly revealed memories. He had dark circles under his eyes, evidence of little to no sleep. His hair, while still long and silky, had a ruffled, unkempt look about it. There was still an air of entitlement about him, which she guessed would never diminish, but it wasn’t laced with the arrogance she usually had associated him with. Now, there was only concern and an emotion she chose not to dwell on in that moment.

“What happened?”

It was evident Lucius wanted to touch her, but he refrained, for which she was grateful. “I believe you were speaking with Draco when you had another memory make itself known.”

She nodded mutely and extracted herself from his lap, refusing to acknowledge the hushed whimper that came from the Death Eater when she left his grasp. She moved to another chair, sat, and placed her face in her hands, sighing heavily. “I need to know more than what Harry has told me.” She raised her head to stare at Lucius. “Will you answer my questions honestly?”

His reticent look was not comforting. “I don’t think that’s wise, given the circumstances.”

“Damn the bloody circumstances, Malfoy!” she ground out. “I just had another memory trigger when I was close to you, and I want to know why!”

“You did?”

“Stop avoiding the issue.”

“I’m not. I was just curious as to what brought it on.” He looked like he was about to pout.

“I-I think it was the...” She felt exceedingly uncomfortable with the memory, pleasant as it was. “The smell of your hair.”

He touched the platinum strands. “You were always fascinated with it.”

Oh, yes... yes, she was. But she would never admit it to him. Instead of confirming or denying his statement, she went on to say, “So? Will you answer my questions?”

He tapped his elegant finger on the wooden surface of the table in contemplation. “On one condition.”

Hermione groaned mentally. Of course he would put conditions on his compliance. He was a Slytherin, after all. “And that is?”

“I’m tired of not sleeping in my bed. I want to return to my chambers.” He gave her a pointed look. “With you in them.”

Bile rose at the back of her throat. “It’s too soon,” she whispered. 

“You will never become accustomed to me if you refuse to spend time in my presence,” he bit out harshly. 

Bastard! How in the world had she ended up marrying the arrogant prick? But that was it, wasn’t it? She didn’t know. While she loved Harry dearly, he coddled her as if she were a fragile vase that would break at the slightest pressure. That was not what she needed right now, and loath as she was to admit it, Lucius had been correct in his assessment of the situation. For the past week she had refused his company except for the odd greeting or question about her health, which he seemed peculiarly interested in. If she wanted answers, she would have to play his game.

“You promise to tell me the truth?” she huffed, arms crossed in defiance.

He nodded, though a flicker of a smile graced his pert lips. “I will even let you give me Veritaserum beforehand.”

 _That_ she had not expected. “How very un-Slytherin of you, Malfoy.”

“Lucius,” he said softly. “Call me Lucius.”

She could see that it was important to him, and she didn’t even want to know why it mattered so much. “Lucius,” she acquiesced.

When he broke out in a truly roguish smile, as if he were inordinately pleased with the sound of his name upon her tongue, she felt shivers spiral up her spine that in no way had anything to do with dislike. 

Quite the opposite, in fact.

~*~*~

“Malfoy? Hermione’s not...” Harry stopped when he spied his best friend sitting beside Lucius in the study. “...where she’s supposed to be.” 

“On the contrary, Mister Potter,” Lucius intoned. “My _wife_ is right where she ought to be.”

Harry glanced at Hermione. She gave him a small smile and returned to the book she was reading, so he turned his attention to Lucius. “Care to explain?”

“Would you mind if I spoke with Potter alone?” Lucius asked Hermione as he rose from his seat.

She narrowed her eyes. “Is it something I don’t want to know about yet?”

Lucius darted his gaze to Harry and then back to her. “Most definitely.”

“You’ll tell me eventually?”

“Did I not promise to be completely frank with you?”

“Yes, but based on what I’ve known of your past behaviour, you could find some way out of it.”

Malfoy sniffed. “You wound me, madam.”

Returning to her book, she muttered, “Highly unlikely.”

She didn’t see the hurt that flashed in Lucius’ eyes, but Harry did. “I’ll be back in a minute, Hermione.”

He followed Lucius out into the corridor and down the hall, until they entered the receiving parlour. “What happened?”

Lucius sank into the cushions of the settee. “I was summoned to the kitchen this morning to find Hermione in the midst of a collapse. Apparently, she and Draco had discussed some _things_. Several memories made themselves known as well.”

“Merlin’s bollocks.” Harry groaned and ran his hands through his perpetually messy hair. “What does she know? Does she know about what happened with Ron? And why was she sitting in the study with you? Does she remember being married to you now?”

The blond wizard frowned in annoyance. “You sound like the Wizengamot cross-examining Severus, with all your questions.” When Harry sat on the other side of him and gave him an expectant look, Lucius rolled his eyes. “From what Draco has told me and she has confirmed, Hermione knows about the circumstances surrounding Dumbledore’s death.”

“Bloody hell!”

“Mmmh, quite. She also recalls Obliviating her parents and parts of our wedding.”

Harry arched a brow at that last item. “Do I want to know what triggered _that_ memory?”

“Uncouth prat,” Lucius hissed. “She told me it was the scent of my hair.”

Snorting, Harry grinned. “She did always have a preoccupation with your hair.”

“I have noticed.” Lucius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging. “There’s another issue at hand, though.” He said nothing for a several moments. “What I’m about to tell you, you are to keep in the strictest confidence, Potter.” He turned and gave Harry a pointed look. “Is that clear?”

Harry didn’t like the feeling that was crawling up his spine, but nodded anyway.

“Madam Pomfrey’s examination revealed that Hermione is pregnant.”

Damn his intuition, Harry had been right. “Shite.” He rubbed his chin. “And she has no idea.” Laying his head on the back of the settee, he groaned loudly. “If you don’t tell her, she’ll never forgive you.”

When there was no answer, Harry turned to see Lucius just staring into the distance, his expression inscrutable. He thought to reinforce the idea that Hermione had a right to know, even in her present frame of mind, but studying Lucius’ evident worry stopped him from pointing out the obvious. Harry supposed, if it came right down to it, he would tell her himself, though he absolutely hated the idea. 

“I require a vial of Veritaserum,” Lucius said quietly, his posture never changing.

“What for?”

Lucius turned to give him an exasperated look. “I promised Hermione she could use it on me.”

Harry shook his head. “Is this for some game she’s realised that she fancies? Never mind, I _really_ don’t want to know why. ”

“I weep for your generation, Potter,” Lucius intoned snidely. He stood and straightened his waistcoat. “It is not for some idle moment of pleasure that I require the potion, you imbecile.”

“Not helping your case, Malfoy.”

“Fine. I’ll ask Severus then.” 

“You do realise that he and I are bonded and you know he’ll ask you the same questions.”

Lucius gave him a knowing smirk. “That’s where you are wrong, Mister Potter. Severus is a Slytherin, and therefore already knows the whys and wherefores of my need for the potion.” 

“Damn.”

“Exactly.” The blond moved to the door and opened it, pausing. “Remember, Potter. She cannot know. Not yet.” He left and closed the door quietly.

Harry stared after him. He hoped Malfoy was right, or else he was going to have a very brassed-off witch on his hands... one who didn’t remember that she loved him.

~*~*~

“You are tired, love,” Lucius murmured to Hermione much later that evening. 

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “I guess the day got away from me.” She glanced out the window at the darkness and winced when she touched her temple. 

“You’ve overtaxed yourself.” He held out his hand, hoping and praying that she would take it. “Come to bed.”

He could tell she was extremely nervous, but like the typical brave Gryffindor she was, she slipped her small hand into his. When she stood, he placed his hands on her hips to steady her as she laid hers on his arms. They were so close. Just a few inches more and she would be completely within his embrace, and oh, how he longed to hold her once more. She had to have felt it too, the way she looked up and peered into his eyes. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Giving her a soft smile, he leaned forward, unable to help himself, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Anything for you.”

Hearing her breathy sigh was like a balm to his soul and he wanted more. Slowly, giving her a chance to resist, he pulled her into the circle of his arms, one hand softly stroking the nape of her neck, the other holding her steady at her waist. He had to admit that he was content that she allowed the contact, but his pulse jumped when she finally relaxed and returned the embrace, letting her head fall on his chest. 

“I’m not sure why, but I really like doing this with you,” she said, her voice drowsy. 

He swallowed thickly. “I’m rather fond of it myself.” He touched his head against hers gently, mindful of the tenderness around her skull. “We indulged often.”

“Did we?” Yes, she definitely sounded as if she were about to fall asleep standing up. 

“Extensively.” He smiled to himself. “I daresay we incited much gossip before the Marriage Ordinance went into effect.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt her stiffen and he cursed his wayward tongue to Hades and back.

He wanted to whimper in a most unmanly fashion when she pulled away from him and wrapped her arms around herself in a self-protective gesture. “Marriage Ordinance?” 

“Hermione, you must let me explain. After the war—”

“I can’t do this right now,” she moaned, a sob caught in the throat. “I-I just...” She implored him with those large brown eyes. 

Frustrated in more ways than one, he felt his temper flare. “We will have to discuss it at some point.”

“I know,” she ground out. She covered her mouth, looking very much like she was about to be sick. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She quickly darted for the door only to pause when he raised his voice.

“You couldn’t possibly have forgotten our bargain, Madam _wife_ , can you?” He knew he was being a bastard, but this situation would not resolve itself if he didn’t push her from her comfort zone... just like he had in the beginning of their courtship. 

He could see that she had not forgotten, and was possibly regretting the hasty agreement from earlier. “Fine, _husband_ ,” she spat without turning to look at him. “I’ll see you shortly.” Then she raised her head and glared at him. “But don’t expect a warm welcome.”

Lucius watched her trounce out of the study, looking forward to the prospect of sleeping with her once again yet hating himself for forcing the issue, considering her condition.

~*~*~

He should’ve taken Hermione at her word.

The moment he closed the bedroom door, an icy blast assaulted him, making even his balls shrivel. Teeth chattering, he glared in the direction of the massive four-poster bed to find her pretending to sleep. He knew she was pretending, because when she was truly in a deep slumber, she had a tendency to snore a bit—not overly so, just a snort or two. In the beginning, he’d found it exceedingly annoying, but it had become a quirk of hers that he’d learned to appreciate over time.

At the moment, however, he was about to lose what patience he had left before he succumbed to frostbite. “If you think a Cooling Charm will prevent me from joining you in _our_ bed, then you have grossly misjudged your opponent, Madam.” He shrugged off his black silk dressing gown and placed it on the back of a chair, tensing against the increased chill. “I will just use your body to warm myself.”

Ah, yes... she was awake as he had surmised. One eye was open and glaring at him, the other buried against the pillow. “You’ll do no such thing, Malfoy.”

“Lucius,” he said in a low voice as he approached the bed. He pulled back the covers and slid in beside her. “Are you going to honour your promise, or hide behind your ailment to avoid it?” 

She gritted her teeth. “I always honour my promises, unfortunately.”

“Remove the spell.”

“But I’m too warm,” she cooed in an oversweet tone, then fanned herself. “See? I’m all flush.”

Oh, he saw, all right. There was, indeed, a rosy tinge that spread across her skin, highlighting her cheeks and the swell of her breasts. He wanted to run his tongue along the edge of the fabric hiding them and partake of her lush offerings. Without thought, he laid his hand on her collarbone, his fingers lightly stroking her flesh.

“Yes, I see very well,” he husked. His wandering digits strayed to the cleft between her breasts. “So beautiful... so ripe.” His cock filled quickly, already ready for its favourite activity with his favourite person.

His fingers were immediately squeezed within her hands. “I said you could sleep with me, Lucius, not that you could paw me.” She flung his hand away. 

“Bloody hell, witch!” He shoved the covers aside and stood, his cock aching with unfulfilled lust. “Have mercy, please!”

He had to have looked desperate to her. She frowned hard and eyed him warily. “If you answer some questions tonight, I’ll... I will...” 

“What do you want to know?” he asked quickly. At this point, if she just touched him, he would explode.

Biting her lip, she sat up further and leaned against the headrest. “I should have asked this in the beginning, but I was trying to focus on getting better, or my head hurt too much.” She took a deep breath. “Why have I not seen Ron Weasley?” Her fingers were unable to stay still, and she picked at the duvet. “I mean, I’ve seen Harry... and Draco, but I thought Ron would at least come to see that I was all right.” She held his gaze. “Did we quarrel and he no longer wishes to see me?”

Dear God, she would have to ask about the ginger prat, wouldn’t she? Lucius’ erection went completely flaccid at the thought of the conversation he was about to have with Hermione. “Are you sure you want to know this particular fact?”

She smiled tremulously. “I know he has a temper, and I’m sure we had more than our fair share of rows, but—”

“He’s dead.” Merlin, he felt ten kinds of bastard as he looked upon her stunned expression. 

“Dead?” she whispered. “H-how?”

Tired all of a sudden, Lucius shifted to the bed and sat on the end, near the foot. “There was a battle towards the end,” he murmured. “Mister Weasley and his brother Percy, I believe, were guarding a corridor from invading Death Eaters.” Zeus’ bollocks! How was he going to tell her this? “They were no match for battle-hardened criminals. Their shield did not hold and... and...” He cleared his throat and raised his eyes to look at her imploringly. “You must understand; there was a lot of confusion and I was desperate to find Draco.”

Hermione seemed to curl in on herself. “You killed him, didn’t you?” Tears spilled over her lashes. 

Lucius had never hated himself more than in that moment. “Yes,” he answered quietly, not bothering to deny it.

He watched her wring the duvet in her hands as silent tears coursed down her cheeks, each drop like a knife in his heart. Her shuddering sobs twisted that knife, until he stood and moved away from the bed. “For what it is worth, I regret taking many lives that day. But most of all, I regret that I took him from you.”

She sniffed and looked at him, her eyes empty. “Where is your wife?”

“My wife?” He frowned in confusion for a moment before he realised that Hermione still didn’t consider herself his spouse. “Narcissa was killed by the Dark Lord.”

“What happened?”

Studying her wan appearance, Lucius slowly approached her side of the bed. “We needn’t speak of this now, Hermione. You’re distraught and it might not be good for the—” He clamped his lips shut so hard he tasted blood from where they were pressed together. 

“For the what?”

“For the moment,” he improvised. 

She gave him a peculiar look but nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she managed before a hiccupping sob lodged in her chest. 

Taking a chance, he sat very close to her and placed his hand atop her raised knee. He considered it a small victory that she didn’t pull away. “Narcissa had lied to the Dark Lord to save your Harry. When her perfidy was revealed, he took...” He paused, struggling. “He took her life in retaliation.”

He didn’t know what he’d expected from Hermione, but her warm hand over his was surprising. “Then we both lost someone we loved.”

Lucius nodded. It was all he could do. If he had opened his mouth, he would have unmanned himself. As it was, he had to bite his tongue to hold back a whimper when she brought the hand on her knee to her mouth and placed a soft kiss to the back. 

There were still questions lurking in her eyes; he could see them as if they were a living thing. She yawned wide and long, however, her exhaustion clearly evident. “You should rest, Hermione.” He turned his hand over and cupped her cheek. “I will sleep elsewhere.” 

He released her, rose, and moved toward the door. Her small voice stopped him.

“Would you hold me?”

Turning slowly, he tilted his head and gazed at her. She looked so tiny amidst all the covers, needing consolation but not wanting to ask for it, her eyes large and luminous. He knew she was a compassionate person, but requesting comfort from the one person that had caused a great deal of her misery to begin with, set her far and above any self-proclaimed humanitarian. 

Abandoning the door, Lucius strode to the bed. He resumed his earlier position, pulling Hermione tenderly into his arms. “It would be my honour to care for you.” He whispered a _Nox_ , and the room descended into darkness.

Her head was pillowed on his chest, her left arm wrapped around his waist. “Thank you.”

Nothing more was said, before he noticed that her body relaxed infinitesimally and her little snores started. That was when he smiled and knew that all was right with the world.

At least for that night.


	3. Chapter 3

“What I want to know,” Harry mumbled around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, “is how you got Hermione to agree to sleep with you again.”

“Must you regale us with your half-masticated food during your inquiries?” Severus growled. He sipped his tea slowly, ignoring the glare sent his way from Potter.

“Though I agree with Severus about your deplorable table manners, I find I’m rather disinclined to answer your question,” Lucius said before savouring his own tea.

The three men were gathered at the informal dining room table, eating breakfast, as had been their usual custom every Wednesday for the past two years. Lucius had silently left the bedroom that morning while Hermione was still deep in slumber. When Severus and Harry had arrived a short time later, he’d greeted them and directed them to sit and begin, giving no thought to how odd it might appear to his wife. 

“You didn’t use the Imperius Curse on her, did you?”

Lucius gave Harry a pointed look. “I behaved as any normal, civilised Slytherin would.”

Harry raised his brows as if waiting for Malfoy to elaborate. Severus snorted. “He either blackmailed her or bartered something of value.”

“The latter,” Lucius reluctantly admitted. “That is the reason for the Veritaserum.”

Severus swallowed the last of his crumpet, wiped his mouth and sat back with a smirk. “I take it your trustworthiness has been called into question? Or is it for the termagant?”

Harry coughed on his orange juice, before quickly pointing out, “You can’t give Hermione Veritaserum!”

“Potter, there are only two reasons one should not administer Veritaserum,” Snape said, exasperated.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry muttered, glancing at the pensive look on Lucius’ face. “One of them applies in this situation.”

Severus’ eyes widened and darted to Lucius. “Granger’s pregnant?”

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. “Poppy confirmed the pregnancy when she examined Hermione. And I do wish you would stop calling her ‘Granger’. She hasn’t used her maiden surname in some years.”

“She will always be ‘Granger’ to me, Lucius. You know this by now.” Snape looked aside at Harry. “You surprise me. Were I still able to do so, I would give you points for correctly identifying possible side-effects of the potion.”

“Why, Severus,” Harry purred, batting his lashes. “That’s practically a declaration of love!”

So intent were the men on their conversation, they did not hear or notice that Hermione had eased her way into the room. They definitely became aware of her presence, however, when she let out a strangled cry.

“Oh goddess!” All three turned to her, but her focus was clearly on Snape. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Severus frowned, while Harry and Lucius rose from their chairs and tried approaching her. Lucius reached her first and grasped her elbow so that she wouldn’t falter. 

“Hermione, sit down, please.” He led her to a seat off to his right... in front of Severus.

“I-I can’t stand to...” She gave Lucius a confused look. “Why do you allow him in your house?”

The atmosphere became increasingly tense as the three men debated on what to tell her.

Slowly, so as not to startle her, Severus withdrew the vial of Veritaserum and showed it to her. “I assume you know what this is, Miss Granger?”

Teeth clenched, lips pursed, she nodded.

“Whom do you wish to question first?” he asked. 

She darted her gaze between Harry, Snape, and Lucius, who was staring at the dour wizard incredulously. “You,” she said, giving Snape a hard glare.

Severus nodded slightly and allowed three drops to settle on his tongue. After several moments, he bade her, “Proceed.”

“Did you kill Dumbledore?”

“Hermione!” Harry spluttered.

Snape cut off the rest of Harry’s outrage with a wave of his hand. “In short, yes.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She looked at Harry. “You knew about this?”

“I watched him do it,” her best friend replied so low she barely heard him. He shook his head with a grimace. “Lord, I hated him, Hermione. But that was before I found out certain things.”

She returned her attention to Snape. “What things?”

“Hermione, perhaps it would be better if—”

“Be quiet, Lucius,” she snarled, never looking at her husband. “Well?” she asked the dour Potions master.

Severus glanced at Harry, who considered something and then nodded. “I was bound by an Unbreakable Vow from Professor Dumbledore himself to end his life, if certain events took place. The Dark Lord had extracted the same Unbreakable Vow from Draco, though he was to kill the Headmaster at any point... at any cost.” His black eyes bore into hers. “You see, Professor Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, chose to ignore the basic rule when dealing with Dark Artefacts. He touched a cursed item with his bare hands. It was only my expertise that kept him alive throughout that year, though he suffered greatly. He was in agony, the likes of which I hope you never have to experience, Miss Granger.”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Lucius hissed. 

Both Hermione and Severus arched their eyebrows, and Lucius was struck with how much those two seemed alike. Yes, there were differences, but at the core his wife and best friend were very similar. It did not sit well with him.

“Continue,” Snape said. 

Lucius could easily tell Severus was disconcerted by the topic, but to the casual observer, nothing indicated the turmoil roiling beneath the cool façade. 

Hermione paused for a moment, then turned to Harry. “I heard you say something about ‘love’ to Professor Snape.” She licked her lips. “A-are you two together?” 

“I haven’t been your professor for well over—”

“Yes,” Harry interrupted, nudging Snape to remain quiet. “It’s very complicated.”

She crossed her arms. “I thought you liked Ginny.”

Harry, clearly uncomfortable, rubbed the back of his neck. “Funny thing, that...” A bright flush started threading its way across his face. “I don’t think Ron would’ve been too keen on the idea of me finding him more attractive than his sister.” He closed his eyes. “I was trying to force certain feelings, but in the end my own proclivities won out.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor for making use of the dictionary.”

“What do you expect?” Harry groused. “I live with you.”

Snape smirked. “It’s refreshing to know I have some positive influence on you.”

Hermione glanced at Lucius. “Are they always like this?”

He thinned his lips. “Unfortunately.” After wiping his mouth with a richly woven napkin, Lucius cautioned, “Hermione, I think it wise—”

“Lucius, if you don’t stop telling me I need to go lie down or put my feet up, or some other ridiculous notion, I’ll personally tie you up and leave you in the dungeons for a week!”

Harry snorted with laughter, while Severus offered to help her bind the now gob-smacked blond. 

“Now,” she huffed and reached for slice of toast, buttering it. “Tell me everything.”

~*~*~

Hermione sat on the edge of the divan, rubbing her temples. “Ignore me the next time I demand that you tell me every little detail,” she said with a groan. 

They had told her almost everything. About the Horcrux hunt with Ron, Hermione, and Harry, with Snape helping when he could; the Deathly Hollows, and how Harry had unknowingly been in possession of one or all of them at one point or another; the Ministry break in; Snape’s time as Headmaster and how fraught it had been with terror, stress, and trying to keep the students alive. They’d described how Lucius had been a virtual prisoner within his own home, Narcissa and Draco watching him deteriorate at an alarming rate, and told her about the blazing Room of Requirement and how Draco had almost perished, as well as of Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth, and the Elder Wand. They’d covered the epic final battle that had brought Hogwarts to resemble ancient Greek ruins and Harry had recounted Ron’s death, how broken he and the Weasleys had been afterwards. By that point, Hermione had been too tired to join Harry in his misery, and she’d begged for them to stop, if only for the day. 

“I tried to warn you,” Lucius pointed out, though not unkindly. “Are you in pain?”

Kneading her fingers on the muscles in her neck was not helping. “A little,” she murmured.

“Come here.” 

Hesitantly, she shifted on the divan to sit in between the V of Lucius’ legs, her back to his front. Her head was pounding from the assault of all the information the men had flooded her with that morning. There were still some significant pieces missing, such as the ‘Marriage Ordinance’ Lucius had mentioned the night before, but she was afraid the pain would become unbearable if she asked any more questions. She couldn’t help a near-desperate moan of relief the moment Lucius placed his hands on her shoulders and began massaging the taut tendons.

“Merlin, that’s wonderful.”

His response was to sit up a little more and bring her closer. She could feel his breath on her skin, and it made her shiver in a delicious way. The manner in which he gripped her muscles and commanded them to release their tension was amazing. Very soon, she found herself feeling quite languid, which caused her to relax against him further. It also loosened her tongue.

“Tell me about the Marriage Ordinance,” she asked softly. 

Lucius paused briefly, but continued with his ministrations. “You know that Kingsley Shacklebolt is the Minister for Magic, correct?” At her slight nod, he went on. “About a year after the Dark Lord’s death, there was a steep decline in the wizard population. No one trusted anyone—pure-blood, Muggle-born, half-blood alike. To foster good will and encourage relationships that would produce another generation, Shacklebolt issued the Marriage Ordinance. Those eligible, male or female, would have six months to find a companion of their choosing, though the Ordinance strongly implied that one should choose another not of their own grouping. If those six months had passed and no match had been made, one would be made for you.”

“Is this Ordinance still in effect?” she wondered drowsily. 

“No, it was abolished a year after its inception, due to overwhelming dislike. But I had no wish to be saddled with a woman of the Ministry’s choosing, since I was subject to the policy at the time.” 

She stiffened. “Then how did you and I...”

He smoothed his hands over her shoulders in a tender caress. “It was Severus’ idea, initially.” Lucius threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged gently, earning a moan from her. “He suggested that we choose our mates while we still had the capability to do so.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you chose me. Why didn’t Draco offer for me? I mean, we’re closer in age than you and I.”

His huff of breath ghosted over her nape, causing her to tremble. “What do you remember of your time during the search for the Horcruxes?”

She turned to face Lucius, studying him intently. “Only what Harry and Snape told me.” She tried remembering, she really did. 

“Let me see if there is something that can trigger your memories,” he proposed softly. “Will you trust me this once?”

A wary look entered her eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“Close your eyes.”

She wanted to say no. She wanted to get up from the very comfortable seat and leave. After several moments of deliberation, however, she slowly closed her lids and waited. “Now what?”

Lucius’ hands tentatively cupped her cheeks, and he ran his thumbs over her fleshy lower lip. “Mister Weasley had left you and Mister Potter stranded near Wales, I believe.” He traced her brows, the pads of his fingers flitting over her lashes. “Severus was told of your location and took it upon himself to deliver the Sword of Gryffindor to Mister Potter, albeit secretly.” A press of soft lips played about her face. “At the time, the Dark Lord felt I had greatly overstayed my welcome in my own house, and foisted me upon Severus, telling him in effect to rid the world of my presence.” Lucius nuzzled the sensitive skin just below her ear. “To save my life, Severus took me with him into the Forest of Dean and quietly insinuated me within your camp, knowing that it was unlikely I would be found, since you and Mister Potter had yet to be discovered after all that time.”

Hermione slowly opened her eyes to stare into the sad, grey depths of Lucius’. “You stayed with us?” 

He smiled awkwardly. “The alliance was tenuous at best, at least in the beginning.” He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over hers. “We began during that time.”

The moment his lips were fully against her own, the memories of that period flooded her mind.

 

_Hermione gasped when she beheld the dreaded Potions master hauling a soaking Harry Potter into the midst of their makeshift camp, followed by none other than a bedraggled Lucius Malfoy. The blond looked nothing like his usual arrogant self. In fact, a decidedly humble, if not downright frightened, air hung about him._

_“Do not attempt to cast any foolish hexes my way, Miss Granger,” Snape intoned. He let go of Harry, who stumbled away from him, clutching a gleaming sword in his right hand._

_“Harry?” she asked, nervously darting her gaze from Snape and Malfoy back to her best friend, trying to decide on the best course of action._

_Harry grimaced and nodded. “Do as he says for now. I’ll tell you later.”_

_“You’ll tell her now,” Snape corrected. “My time is limited, and I don’t want your feeble descriptions to damage what I have already explained to you. There are pressing matters at hand, and I need reassurances.”_

_Green eyes looked askance, then focused on Hermione. “Snape’s been helping all along.” Harry pursed his lips, hesitant to say more._

_“But what about Dumbledore?”_

_“A curse, Miss Granger,” Severus drawled when Harry refused to say more. “I take it you observed the frailty of the Headmaster last year, yes?” At her nod, he continued. “Were it not for my constantly giving him the strongest potion I could feasibly brew at the time, he would have not lived to see All Hallows Eve.”_

_“Snape killed Dumbledore on the Professor’s orders,” Harry said, bitterness lacing his tone. “So Draco wouldn’t have to mar his precious soul.”_

_“Potter...”_

_“Don’t!” Harry snarled, glaring at Snape. “You may have saved my life numerous times, but you’ve always been a bastard about it!”_

_“I, for one, am grateful for your intervention, Severus,” Lucius supplied quietly. “My sins should not have been visited upon my son.”_

_“And don’t get me started on you, Malfoy!” Harry spat, now starting to pace. “I can’t believe I agreed to do this.”_

_Hermione had stayed mostly quiet, but this piqued her interest. “Agreed to do what?”_

_“The Dark Lord does not comprehend what you and Mister Potter are trying to achieve, other than not being found. He is frantic, and his anger is swifter than usual, causing him to lash out at his Death Eaters. I have been given Lucius to dispose of as I see fit.” Snape looked Malfoy up and down. “In the coming months, his information as to how to subvert the Dark Lord will be important. It would be foolish to lose such a valuable asset. I am placing him in your care and protection, until such time as I can make different arrangements.”_

_Hermione turned to Harry and glared. “You’re mental, you know that? I can’t believe you agreed to do this, either!”_

_“Shall I remind you of the event in your third year, when I stood between a rabid werewolf and a trio of incompetent, rule-breaking miscreants, preventing said troublemakers from suffering the same curse as the wolf?” Snape snidely told Hermione._

_Her jaw dropped a tad. “It’s not often I say this, Harry, but you’re right; he is a bastard about it.” Nostrils flaring, she pointed the only wand in their possession at Malfoy. “If you so much as twitch or look at Harry in the wrong way, I won’t hesitate to end you—information be damned.”_

_Both Snape and Malfoy’s eyes widened at her threat. Lucius hesitated, and rightly so, but Snape shoved him forward to stand in front of Hermione. She pressed the tip of the wand against his heart and indicated he should move towards the tent._

_She left Harry and Snape outside, even though Harry had no weapon. Her friend was far from defenceless, but she had a gut feeling that Snape would not harm him anyway. Pushing aside the canvas flap, she nudged Malfoy inside and directed him to sit on one of the benches. When he had seated himself, she sat opposite, studying him._

_“Tell me why you’re really here.”_

_Lucius rubbed his red-rimmed eyes, lack of sleep evident in his tired countenance. “I owe Snape a life debt. He saved Draco and my life many times over in the past few years. It would behove me to follow his orders.”_

_“What has happened to you?” She tilted her head to the side, frowning. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days, and you’re rather pungent.”_

_Her words seemed to have a profound effect on the proud pure-blood, who curled in on himself, head in his hands. “You have the right of it, Miss Granger,” he muttered. “Could I trouble you for a slice of bread? Perhaps a glass of water?”_

_Hermione covered her mouth in shock. The shell of the man she had once feared most next to the Dark Lord, was asking her for sustenance. She didn’t know whether to laugh at his misfortune or pity him. In the end, she did neither. If he was to remain with them, he would have to pull his weight._

_“I can conjure a glass of water, but as for food, we only have a few berries that I was able to find.” She tore off a piece of her cotton jacket, transfigured it into a small tumbler, quickly filled it with a murmured Aguamenti, and handed it to Malfoy._

_He grasped the glass with shaking hands and drained the liquid, never pausing to breathe. She could see that he wanted more, but was hesitant to ask for it, probably feeling that he had pushed his luck already. She solved his dilemma by filling it again before he could give voice to the request._

_After he gulped down the second glass, she said, “No more, or you’ll make yourself sick.”_

_They looked at each other, both startled, her sudden and awkward ‘mothering’ catching them off guard._

_He nodded slowly and handed her the makeshift cup. “Thank you.”_

_Her emotions a jumble from everything that had happened that evening, she didn’t acknowledge his gratitude. Instead, she informed him, “You may wash in the morning... in the nearby stream. I can heat the water for you, but that’s all we have. If that’s not good enough—”_

_“It is fine, Miss Granger.” He scanned the interior of the tent. “Is there a place I may rest?”_

_She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Usually, the boys had slept in the rickety iron bunk, and she on the camp bed on the other side of the tent. After Ron had disappeared, though, she had taken to sleeping above Harry, just to hear the sounds of another human being. With Malfoy living amongst them, however, a watchful eye would have to be kept. “You can bunk with Harry,” she said, nodding towards the double bed. “On top.”_

_The makings of a sneer started to curl Lucius’ upper lip, but he quickly banished it. “As you wish. May I retire now?”_

_Hermione frowned. “You’re not a prisoner here, Malfoy. Just an unwelcome guest.”_

_His smile was thin and mocking. “I see no difference.”_

_Before she could retort, he rose and stepped away from the table to study the mechanics of hopping to the higher mattress. Several moments passed before he grabbed the end rail with his right hand and hoisted himself upon the mattress with effortless grace. She secretly envied him his agility._

_The canvas flap parted, and Harry and Snape appeared once more. “Where’s Malfoy?” Harry asked, agitated._

_She pointed to the top bunk, where Lucius had already wrapped the meagre blanket around him and buried his aquiline nose into the pillow. When Harry moved to shake Malfoy, Hermione stood and stopped him._

_“He’s tired, hungry, and disgustingly dirty. If you bait him, you may not like the results.”_

_“Though the world has not ceased to turn at this momentous event, I do believe Miss Granger has the right of it.”_

_“Git,” Harry and Hermione grumbled at the same time._

_A victorious smirk broke out on Snape’s face. “Most definitely.” He inclined his head towards Harry. “I take my leave of you.” He glanced at Hermione. “Remember, keep him hidden. If the Dark Lord knew he was with you, we would all perish. Slowly.” With a flourish of his midnight robes, he vanished as quickly as he had appeared._

_The next day, Hermione showed Lucius to a frigid brook, clumps of ice flowing right along with the water. They were still well within the protective wards she had set up, but she was extremely vigilant, nonetheless._

_“You have ten minutes.”_

_Lucius frowned. “Why only ten?”_

_“We move every day,” she explained. “Once you’re through, we’re leaving.” She made to walk back to camp, but his voice stopped her._

_“You shouldn’t trust me out here, alone.” He gave her a lazy grin. “I could very easily give away your location.”_

_She gave him a calculating look, a slow knowing smirk appearing on her lips. “Go ahead.” She crossed her arms. “But just so you know, Harry and I will be gone in less time than it takes for you to say Mudblood. We’ll leave you here to rot. And while they want us in their custody, I think they’d make a nice exception for you, Malfoy.” She turned around and headed back to the camp, saying over her shoulder. “You are now a blood traitor, after all.”_

_The following weeks progressed much the same way: get up, forage for anything edible, wash what could be washed, use Cleansing Charms for the body, endless trek across the country-side. Harry, with Snape’s help, destroyed the Horcrux locket while Hermione was getting Lucius acquainted with their lifestyle. She was just glad she didn’t have to carry the damned thing anymore, and she was certainly happy Malfoy never had to put it on. The visions, hallucinations and ridicule she had suffered while it hung about her neck were horrendous. She could only imagine what Lucius would see or even hear._

_One day, Lucius sat next to Harry, who gave him a wary look. “It occurs to me that you and Miss Granger, are merely wandering aimlessly in search of the next Horcrux,” the blond said._

_Harry glanced at Hermione before replying, “We don’t know exactly what the Horcruxes are.”_

_Lucius actually looked flabbergasted. “Surely Dumbledore told you what—”_

_“Snape killed him before he could tell me all of them.”_

_Hermione could hear irritation lace her friend’s answer, so she took it upon herself to ask Lucius for more information. “Do you know what they are?”_

_With a slight nod, he told them all he knew of Tom Riddle’s Horcruxes._

_On a particularly chilly night after they had destroyed Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, Hermione and Harry had been outside the tent, planning on how to enter Hogwarts to gain access to Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem. When she entered the tent, Hermione was quite put out to see Lucius lying prone in her bed._

_“What do you think you’re doing?”_

_But there was no answer. Fuming, she marched towards the camp bed and leaned over Lucius, only to draw back. His face was flushed red, his blond strands plastered to his brow in a sickly sweat, his eyes lidded and glassy. His whole frame was shaking._

_“Malfoy?” she called quietly, easing onto the side of the bed. No answer. “Lucius?”_

_He groaned and buried himself further under the covers._

_“Harry?” She sent her friend a worried look. “Malfoy’s sick.”_

_“What?” Harry stood next to her and looked him over. “Damn.” He paced for a moment and then held out his hand. “Give me the wand.”_

_“But—”_

_“Now, Hermione, we don’t have time to waste.”_

_She handed the precious stick to her best friend and bit her lip. “What are you going to—”_

_“I’ll be back soon.” He darted a quick glance to Lucius. “Just keep him comfortable until I get back.” With that, Harry ducked out of the tent, and she heard the distinct crack of Disapparition._

_Granted, she knew why Harry had taken their only wand—if he wanted to be able to find her again, he would need to cast the spell they had developed in order to Apparate to their location—but its lack made her feel defenceless, especially with an ill Malfoy to contend with. Of course, there were a few wandless, wordless spells she had been able to master, but again, they were nothing of great import when it came to fending off anyone looking for them._

_Lucius moaned, and this time it sounded like a sob._

_“Please, my Lord! Not Draco... not my wife!” More shivering. “Take me instead!”_

_Hermione watched Lucius’ features contort in anguish, and a small shard of compassion pierced the sacred shell around her heart. She had hated this man for a great portion of her adolescent life—had wanted to go on hating him. But his constant presence and altered ideologies brought to light a different man. One that was but a knife’s edge away from madness, as his pain was quite evident even through the fevered ramblings._

_Unable to bear the heart-wrenching cries now emanating from the wizard, Hermione implemented a remedy that her mother always used when Hermione had been a small child: a soothing touch. Shifting Lucius to the side, she slid under the covers, propped herself up on what pillows there were, and brought Malfoy’s head to lie on her chest._

_“It’s a good thing you’re handsome,” she muttered under her breath. Had Lucius been awake, she would’ve never uttered such words. Seeing how he was incapacitated, however, she took the chance to voice her thoughts._

_Threading calloused fingers through the silvery-blond locks, Hermione began humming softly, low in her chest, in hopes that the gentle vibrations would induce calm and peace within the tortured wizard. She did this for what seemed like an hour, before he finally settled enough to relax against her._

_But that was when her own senses went a little arse over teakettle._

_In a bid for comfort, Lucius nuzzled his nose right into the swell of her breast and wrapped his left arm around her waist, pulling her close. She thanked Merlin multiple times that she wasn’t claustrophobic, or she would be in a right panic at that moment. When he hooked his left leg over her hip and began slowly rocking against her, she had to swallow the whimper stuck in her throat._

_“Smell like Hermione,” he whispered against her skin. “Love the way she smells.”_

_Dear Circe’s hot lacy knickers! Never in her wildest dreams, or nightmares, had she imagined that Lucius Malfoy, Death-Eater-extraordinaire, would be trying to bring himself off while thinking of her! So lost was she in trying not to react, she didn’t realise that Lucius had tugged on the fabric of her shirt, exposing her left breast to the chilled night air. The press of his lips on her sensitive nipple caused her to gasp and arch up to fill his mouth, wanting more._

_Malfoy was sick, he was delusional, he had brain fever... Oh... God! He had curled his tongue around the ruched peak, flicking it back and forth before lightly nipping the bud and suckling. Her fingers were clutching his hair and digging into his back; she loved the attention he lavished upon her. She had never had sex before, but she wasn’t ignorant. Ron had been giving her and Harry funny looks just before he left, and she had blindly thought he was seeing her in a different light. She had wanted him desperately last year, but when day after day came and went by without his return, she knew deep down in her fragile heart that he had lost faith... in her, in Harry... in himself._

_When Lucius insinuated himself between her legs, her mind went blank, and she forgot all about Ron. Forgot why she shouldn’t be doing that, especially with Malfoy. Ceased caring that Harry had left, probably to find Snape and inform him of Lucius’ condition._

_This last thought caused her to still and become rigid. If he was sick, how could he have the strength to do this? “Lucius,” she whispered. “Stop.”_

_“No,” he pleaded mournfully. He buried his nose against her pulse and pressed kisses along her neck. “Please... let me feel something.”_

_Her heart clenched. “I’m a Mudblood, remember?” If anything would stop him, it would be that._

_“My Hermione,” he purred in return. “My saviour.” This was followed by an all-consuming kiss, while he circled his hips, nudging his erection into the crux of her thighs._

_“Oh, God,” she panted when he freed her mouth. She wanted to rant and rave, to rail at the man who dared take liberties on someone he’d always hated. The swivel of his hips, however, the thrust of his hard shaft against her fully clothed, yet wet and throbbing mons, was devastating._

_Unbidden, her legs wrapped around his slim waist, allowing for greater friction. He took advantage of that, and his arms made their way under her shoulders, holding her in place for each plunge. It didn’t matter that they would both be sore from the chaffing of weathered clothing against their most sensitive flesh; they drove each other on in a frenzied lust, both desperate to feel something, anything, during the despair and isolation in the bleak midwinter._

_“Mine,” he breathed in her ear just before he drove his hips forward one last time._

_She didn’t know who screamed first, but the orgasm crested over her, leaving her floating weightless in Lucius’ arms._

 

When she pried her eyes open, she blinked repeatedly. “Lucius?” she said breathlessly. 

His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes focused on her intently. “Yes, love?” He fingered a curl that had fallen haphazardly across her brow. 

Hermione cupped his strong jaw, her thumbs rubbing at the purple smudges below his eyes, evidence of many a sleepless night. “I remember you.”

A light of pure joy entered his gaze and he smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

They slept soundly that night.

In the morning, however, when Lucius awoke, his wife was sitting on the window seat and staring out upon the grounds. “Hermione? Are you all right?” He slipped from the bed, donned a dressing gown, and joined her on the cushioned seat.

She turned and gave him a small smile. “I didn’t feel well and I didn’t want to disturb you.” She laid her hand on his leg closest to her. 

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Any new memories?”

A bashful smile broke out on her face. “I remember our courtship.”

For some reason, the memories had come rushing at her while she was bent over the toilette, retching. Along with the images from the previous night, came the knowledge that Narcissa had perished shortly after lying to save Harry, but Hermione had not known until much later. Thus, by the time Lucius had publically started to court Hermione, his wife had been dead for over a year. 

It had seemed odd to the Wizarding population in general, not only because Lucius had approached the famous Muggle-born, but also because their compatibility appeared to be genuine and almost—dare one say it?—caring and loving. What no one, other than Lucius and Hermione, knew was that the embers of their relationship had started burning that lone night of frenzied love-making. Harry had returned with Snape in tow, and Lucius had been removed from their camp with nary a backward glance. She had never uttered a word to Harry about what had happened that night with her and Lucius.

Hermione had tried to reconcile her heart with the idea that she was better off not knowing where the blond wizard had been taken, but it had hardly worked. There was a fuzzy memory that she had recalled of Snape once telling her that he had kept Lucius well-hidden until the final battle. Lucius had then demanded that his friend release him so that he could find Draco and Narcissa. Reluctantly, Snape had agreed, but warned him that both factions would likely capture him, or worse in the case of the Death Eaters, kill him. 

Apparently, it was a risk Lucius was willing to take, for when the dust had settled after the final battle, and she had caught a glimpse of three blond heads huddled together, she’d nearly wept with relief. Then she _had_ wept, because she’d realised Lucius did not belong to her. He belonged to Narcissa. Head hung low, she’d left everyone to their victory—or in some cases, their despair—and had set about trying to find her parents again, which had taken her a year in Australia. 

Once she had returned, her parents opting to stay where they were, she had been greeted with a situation she hadn’t expected: the Marriage Ordinance. Her mind had instantly rebelled, but her heart had broken all over again. Not only had she lost Ron, she had also come to care a great deal about Malfoy Senior, and he wasn’t available either. Prepared to return to Australia to be near her parents and escape the proposed law, she had been surprised to hear a knock on her flat door.

_Hermione cautiously looked through the peephole and was stunned at the man who now stood outside her flat. Lucius Malfoy._

_She took down her numerous wards, opened the door, and smiled hesitantly. “Mister Malfoy.”_

_He was dressed to the nines, as was his usual style, but there was an emptiness that lurked behind his eyes. “Miss Granger. May I come in?”_

_She stepped to the side and allowed him entry, shutting the door after him. Hands wringing, she made herself stop to indicate the sitting room with a tilt of her head. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?”_

_Lucius hadn’t moved far into her flat, but he had certainly noticed the scattered boxes. “Going somewhere?”_

_Biting down the nasty retort of, ‘it’s none of your business,’ she nodded before entering her kitchen to make tea. “I’m moving to be near my family.”_

_“And they are where?”_

_“That’s not really your concern, Mister Malfoy,” she said on a huff. She forcefully plopped down a chipped cup of tea on a counter near the blond._

_“Lucius,” he stated quietly._

_Her brow arched. “Is there a reason you stopped by?” She crossed her arms instinctively. She might have felt a moment of weakness with that beautiful man, but she would not let him destroy her life now. When he moved closer, she had to steel herself not to retreat. This was her flat, her territory, and he was considered an intruder—the enemy._

_He pulled his black leather gloves off and stashed them away in his travelling cloak. “I assume you’ve been made aware of the Marriage Ordinance?” At her slight nod, he continued. “I’ve come to ask that you consider my suit.”_

_She almost had to forcibly close her mouth, slack as it was with shock. A mixture of dread and longing welled in her chest. “I don’t think Draco and I would be compatible, Mister Malfoy.”_

_“Lucius,” he implored again, this time stepping right into her personal space. “And the suit is mine, not Draco’s.” He lifted his hand and brushed away a stray curl that had fallen across her nose._

_“Yours?” she whispered harshly. She was desperately trying not to inhale the spicy fragrance of the wizard that haunted her dreams at night. “I-I don’t understand.”_

_Frowning, he tilted his head to study her. “Draco has already petitioned for a witch and she has accepted.” He leaned forward, his nose brushing hers. “I had thought perhaps since we had shared a kinship of sorts, that you would be amenable to continuing what was abruptly ended so long ago.”_

_Her eyes closed, in ecstasy and pain, and she even heard herself whimper. “Why would I want to continue something with a married man?” she asked in a broken voice, hating herself for her weakness._

_His lips were on her eyelids, pressing gently. “I have been a widower for over a year, Hermione. I am subject to the Ordinance, same as you.”_

_She quickly opened her eyes and searched his grey depths. “But I saw you with Draco and Narcissa, after the battle!”_

_“I was mourning with Draco,” he admitted softly. “I believe you saw a lifeless mother being cradled by her son.”_

_Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so very sorry.”_

_He nodded and cupped her heated cheek, swiping at the falling tears with his thumb. “Despite what you might think, Narcissa was a good woman. She will be missed.” Lucius gathered her close, insinuating himself between her legs, the kitchen counter at her back. “Tell me that you feel the merest spark of what happened that night.”_

_Lucius’ long, hard body wreaked havoc on her senses and her long dormant desires, pressed against her as it was. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”_

_“Why?” His fingers drifted across her jaw and down the slim column of her neck, idly caressing her skin. “I may have been delirious with fever that night, but I knew very well to whom I clung.” He slipped one button of her lavender blouse from its hole. “Tell me what you felt.”_

_She was panting now, trapped against the counter and his unyielding stance. Every time her chest rose, his deft fingers would collide with the bare skin of her cleavage. “I felt...” She tried to grasp onto words that described what she experienced that night, but his continued touches drove her to distraction. “I felt needed, wanted.”_

_“Yes,” he hissed and slipped another button free, revealing a lacy purple bra. He traced the edging on the cup. “And?”_

_“Fire, passion,” she breathed and reached out to finally touch him as well. She ran her hand over his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his robes. “I wanted more.”_

_He dipped his long fingers inside the cup and pushed the material aside, freeing her breast to his gaze. “I longed for more as well.” He caressed her soft flesh, clearly mesmerised when her nipple began to pucker from his attentions. “So much more...” Bending low, he latched onto her breast and suckled, his tongue laving her nipple, his teeth nipping at the ruched bud._

_“Oh, God,” she moaned and threaded her hands through his silky hair to keep him where he was. “Don’t stop.”_

_“Don’t leave,” he countered after releasing her nipple with a wet plop. He straightened and ran his hands along her sides and down to grip her waist, lifting her to perch on the counter. “Consider my suit,” he demanded._

_“Think about what you’re saying, Lucius,” she said, cupping his clean-shaven jaw. “It ends in marriage. And not just any marriage. You would be united with a Mudbloo—”_

_Her words were effectively silenced with his lips upon hers. His talented tongue explored her mouth, her teeth, and duelled with her own. He broke away only to breathe. “No, my Hermione.” His hands slipped under her blouse and began stroking the heated skin of her back. “I know very well what considering my suit means. Very well.”_

_Could she risk it? Could she risk her heart and mind to try and find happiness with this man? This man, who had been broken, who’d had his whole life taken and given back to him in pieces, was asking her to help reshape his existence. Did she have the courage to do so?_

_Slowly, she nudged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her forehead against his. “I suppose if I must be subject to the Ordinance, I can think of no better person to drag along with me.” She kissed his patrician nose. “Yes, I accept your suit.”_

_She was not prepared to be pulled flush with his body in a tight embrace. “You won’t regret it,” Lucius assured her, words interspaced between kisses and licks to her neck and shoulders. He spelled away the rest of the buttons on her shirt and proceeded to unhook her bra, gradually freeing her body to his heated gaze. “I will lavish you with the richest fabrics, the most extravagant jewels, the best—”_

_“Lucius, no!” she protested. “I just want you.”_

_“And you shall have me, witch,” he purred, cupping her breasts in his hands, his thumbs circling her areolas, flicking her nipples with his nails. “So responsive.” He dipped his head to taste her skin. “So succulent,” he murmured._

_All Hermione could do was hold onto him. He made her dizzy and lightheaded with need. When his hands strayed to the zip of her jeans, she halted his advance. “Do you really want to do this in the kitchen?”_

_His eyes were hooded with lust. “I have waited a long time to have you, Hermione. You don’t know what kind of restraint I showed that night in the tent.”_

_She laughed a little. “Lucius, you were sick.”_

_“I’ll have you know that, even in my weakest of states, I am not one to be trifled with.” He continued to undo the rivet and lower the zip._

_“Stop, please,” she begged softly. “I don’t want to lose my virginity on the kitchen counter.”_

_His hands fisted and drew away. “You are untouched?” He stared at her, a fierce light residing in his eyes. “You are truly mine?”_

_Hermione smiled awkwardly. “If you still want me, yes.” She’d barely finished her sentence before she was tugged forward so that she had to wrap her legs around Lucius trim waist to keep from being drooped to the floor._

_“What started in that tent has ruled my waking and dreaming thoughts, Hermione,” Lucius growled low and he buried his face in the crux of her neck. “I will wait until you are officially mine before I take something so precious from you.”_

_She returned his embrace and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Thank you for that, Lucius, but honestly, we don’t have to wait that long.”_

And they hadn’t. Just long enough for them to make it to her bedroom where he had worshiped her body the way he had meant to that night so long ago. They kissed, they clung to one another as if each were a port in the storm, and when he’d entered her the first time, there had been a burning pain, soon outshined by the rapture he’d brought her to, over and over. 

“What has you smiling so wantonly, love?” Lucius’ soft question brought her out of her musings. 

Hermione crawled over to sit alongside her husband and laid her head on his shoulder, loving the way he wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her close. “I was remembering the time you asked me to consider your suit.” A small chuckled escaped. “I must say, you were adorable in your tenacity.”

He huffed in mock offense. “Malfoys are not adorable. We are dignified, austere and powerful. Never _adorable_.”

“Oh, I see,” she drawled, sitting up and shifting so that she straddled his lap. “So, you wouldn’t agree to being _adorable_ if it meant that we could—” She swivelled her hips against the noticeable bulge currently pressing into her mons. “—make love?”

Grey eyes rolled back into his head. “I am the most powerful ruler of all things adorable,” he grunted, grasping the hem of her nightgown and rucking it up over her thighs. 

“So easy,” she purred liltingly and leaned forward to press her lips to his. 

“Only for you,” he agreed. He pushed aside his dressing gown to reveal his hardened length and tugged her closer, centring her so that she could feel the full affect of his arousal. “See what you do to me?” 

Slipping beneath her knickers, his fingers deftly swirled around her aching nubbin and stroked the slick folds of her sex. A growl of frustration banished her knickers, and his fingers found a new angle to tease her with. “My beautiful wife,” he cooed. “So needy and wet for me.” He grasped her by the hip with his free hand, manoeuvred them into a more comfortable sitting position, and immediately started thrusting his pelvis forward, his heavy cock sliding easily between her nether lips. When her questing hands tugged on his hair, he encircled her wrist and brought it between their bodies. 

“Touch me,” he commanded her in a gruff voice, shifting so he could place her palm on his erection. He gasped when she instinctively began fisting it up and down. “Gods, yes,” he moaned.

While Hermione had vague images of what Lucius looked like naked, she was now face to face with that reality in sharp detail. His cock was thick, its purplish head glistening with precome every time she pulled back his foreskin. She swiped her thumb over the tip to coat the digit, brought it to her mouth, and sucked the salty substance off the pad.

“Enough!” He had been watching her the entire time and looked ready to pounce the moment her thumb slipped between her lips. Pulling her in for a searing kiss, he growled against her mouth, “Inside, now.”

This was it; there was no return after consciously having sex with Lucius for the first time. Fumbling, she placed the tip of him against her opening then eased herself down, letting out a choked sob of pleasure when he stretched and filled her. He sank in to the hilt, seated as far as humanly possible within her. His hands returned to her hips, to direct her over him back and forth, the friction eliciting a sweet ache deep in her womb and making them both groan in bliss. 

His hands rhythmically grasped and released her arse with each delicious slide of her up and down his shaft, his thrusts alternating between slow and deep, hard and plunging. She had to wrap her arms around his shoulders to remain upright, which allowed him to place love bites along her slender neck. 

Her core clenched when he began panting in her ear. “I have missed you. Your warmth surrounding me, making me whole.”

“Ah, God... Lucius!”

He snapped his hips upwards, smiling when she shrieked as she was impaled on his cock. “Love how you respond to me, effortlessly, as if your last breath depends on me.”

Her head lolled back. “Yes,” she sighed, arching into him. “Need you.”

“Why do you need me?” he snarled with another series of sharp thrusts. His eyes pleaded with her for something unknown.

Between the sound of their flesh smacking and the feel of him bottoming out inside her again and again, her legs began to tremble and her insides to quiver. “You make me feel safe, cherished,” she sobbed.

He pulled back and he drove deep, causing her to whimper with need. “What else? Tell me, Hermione!”

He sounded so desperate to hear something from her, but she couldn’t comprehend much beyond the churn of his hips, the winding of his cock inside her passage to hit spots she didn’t know existed, leaving her breathless and desperate for relief from the divine torture of it all. His right hand strayed up to cup her breast, his forefinger and thumb twisting and tweaking the hardened bud, making her squeal. “Lucius! Oh, God... yes!”

Grasping her shoulders, he set up a punishing thrust, steadily increasing his pace, building the ache inside her core, making her walls clench. “Tell me!” he demanded.

And then, just as she was cresting the precipice, clarity found her. “Because I love you!” she screamed as every nerve in her body turned in on itself before exploding outward in waves. 

Lucius’ breath turned ragged. He cursed hoarsely and gripped her tightly, riding out the ripple of her orgasm, following her with his own. He was delivering short jerky thrusts, and she could feel the pulsing of his cock as he released himself in bursts that bathed her core with his seed. 

Both clung to each other, panting and breathing heavily in the silence of the room. After several moments, Hermione sat up slowly, still impaled on Lucius’ softening cock. 

“That was—” She swallowed and touched her heated cheek. “—intense.”

His smile was warm. “It is always this way between us.” He tucked a wayward strand behind her ear, caressing the side of her face in the process, a pensive look edging into his eyes. “Did you mean it?”

She thought to play coy with him, but his gaze held uncertainty—something she was unused to seeing in the normally proud man. “Yes,” she murmured before capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. “Memories kept me near to you, even when I wanted to run in the other direction.”

Lucius cleared his throat and took her hands between his own. “I think I may know why you fell,” he began hesitantly. 

She rose a little, shifting off his lap in fears that she might not like to hear his theory. “I was in the library.”

He nodded in agreement. “You were searching in the biology section for possible answers.” He reached out and rubbed at the dark smudges underneath her eyes. “You were ill this morning.”

“I tried to be quiet,” she said a little sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, you misunderstand, Hermione.” He pulled her close and ran his hands up and down her arms. “You’ve been ill several mornings, yes?” She frowned but nodded. “I believe you were ill that morning and became dizzy whilst standing on the platform stairs. Vertigo can greatly affect women who are...”

She raised her eyebrows when he didn’t say anything. “Women who are what, Lucius?”

“Women who are with child.”

“What?” Her voice barely came out. Her vision began to tunnel. “Oh God... I’m... oh, God!” Bile crept up the back of her throat, and she lurched from the window seat to run for the bathroom, reaching it just in time to empty her stomach into the bowl.

She was grateful that he didn’t say anything more but grabbed her tangled mess of hair and held it back while she became sick once more. When there was nothing feasibly left in her stomach, she sat on the tile floor with a groan. “Thank you.”

He bent low over her, pressing a wet, cool flannel to her forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Like the world is constantly tilting and I can’t make it stop.” She looked at him with teary eyes. “Did you know?”

“Not at first.” He helped her up, flushed the toilette, and cast a small _Tergeo_ on her face and mouth before escorting her back to the bedroom and sitting her on the bed. “After Pomfrey examined you, however...” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I thought it best to tell you once you had grasped the full context of your relationship with me. I think it would have been difficult for you to handle coming to grips with the facts that you were married to me _and_ that you were pregnant, don’t you agree?”

Hermione gave him a half-hearted glare. “I suppose.” 

“There is no supposition about it. From your displays of mistrust to your outright refusal to accept certain situations, the outcome for you and our child would have been grim, to say the least.”

“Fine,” she muttered, hating to agree with him on the specific subject. “But I still don’t remember everything. Why did you tell me now?”

“Do you not know?” That yearning was back in his voice again, and she couldn’t stand that she had put it there. 

She leaned against the headboard, rubbing her temples, searching in her jumbled mind for the possible answer. Gratefulness did not begin to encompass the emotions coursing through her when Lucius took her hand.

“I wanted you to remember our love before I told you such a thing, Hermione,” he spoke quietly. “You would not have wanted the burden of knowing about the pregnancy without knowing how it came about.”

Damn, but he knew her so well. “I concede that fact.” And she did see his logic concerning the situation. Had she known before she was ready that she was pregnant with his child, she would have gone around the bend and probably done something that she would’ve later regreted. As it was, she was still in shock, but it was tempered with knowing that the baby had been created by an obviously loving couple. “Is that why I was in the library? Searching for possible books on the first signs of pregnancy?”

He slipped back into bed, pulling her to him before answering. “I suspect that is the reason.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “How are you feeling now?”

“Sleepy,” she murmured drowsily. “Stay with me while I nap?” Her eyes had already closed, but she heard his answer.

“I’d like to see anyone keep me from it.” 

She smiled and snuggled close to Lucius, quickly succumbing to Morpheus’ sway and dreaming of the family yet to come.


End file.
